


On The House

by Ydnam



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-20
Updated: 2013-04-20
Packaged: 2017-12-09 00:32:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/767891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ydnam/pseuds/Ydnam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Rumplestiltskin has gained an unexpected ally and grudgingly begins to realize this might actually be a useful thing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	On The House

**Author's Note:**

> Granny and Rumple is my new favorite broship. This follows my "Den Mother" fic, though that's not necessary for understanding.

After the incident with Cora there were several things that required Rumplestiltskin’s attention. Regina’s renewed quest for vengeance was, unfortunately, at the top of the list. He had tried to offer advice and she had refused to take it. In retrospect perhaps her mother’s graveside was not the best place to discuss these matters but that was over and done with. He had warned the prince and Snow White and Miss Swan and he already foiled Regina’s plans once. Was that enough for them to leave him in peace for now? He rather doubted it. Somehow he would end up drawn back in. He always did.

Regina and her would-be victims were hardly his only problem. There was Baelfire who had been found after countless years of searching. Countless was the wrong word; Rumplestiltskin knew exactly how long his boy had been missing from his life. Of course, Bae was distracted by the unexpected knowledge of his own son. Henry was a complication in and of himself and Rumplestiltskin rather hoped he could avoid the boy until he determined the best course of action for dealing with him.

Belle, of course, was another matter entirely. He had his son and finding him had cost him Belle for a second time.

“I brought your Belle home with me,” Mrs. Lucas announced as she walked into the shop as if summoned by his thoughts.

“Beg pardon?”

“Your girl,” Granny said slowly. “I brought her home to the inn.” She picked up a candlestick from the counter and turned it over in her hands before speaking. “I didn’t realize you’d come back from your little jaunt until now. Would have thought your first stop would have been to check in on her.” She put down the candlestick with a little more force than was necessary and glared at him.

“She didn’t want to see me.” Rumplestiltskin had the other half of the candlestick pair in his hands and didn’t look up from polishing it.

“Did you even know they’d kept her in the hospital all this time?”

His grip tightened on the rag in his hand until his knuckles stood out. Of course he hadn’t known that. “I was under the impression she was being well cared for.”

“You were wrong.”

“Evidently.” The word was forced out between clenched teeth.

“And you might want to see to her. She asked about you.”

He looked up, unable to keep the hope and desperation from his face. “She did?” She couldn’t remember. If she remembered she would be here in his arms and he’d never let her go again. And anyone who stood in their way would be dealt with in a permanent fashion.

“It seems some old fool called her up and said he was dying.” She looked him up and down and shook her head. “Poor girl wanted to know if I’d heard anything. Last I knew you’d run off with the sheriff so I had nothing to tell.”

Of course she hadn’t remembered. It had been ridiculous to even consider that possibility. “You can see I’m still among the living. Pass that along as you see fit.”

“You tell her yourself, Rumplestiltskin.” Granny glared. She had a formidable glare. Wolves always did. “She was worried and you’ll go reassure her you’re an immortal sorcerer and she has nothing to be concerned about.”

“Surely you aren’t trying to give me an order.” He did not respond well to orders.

“It was a friendly suggestion. She’ll be in the diner for the next hour or so if you decide to wise up and take my advice.” Rumplestiltskin suspected the woman would have bared her fangs if she were still able to do so. As it was the teeth she flashed in a decidedly unfriendly smile would more than suffice.

“Remind me why it is I allow you to speak to me this way?” His voice had grown very quiet. He wasn’t sure of the answer himself. There was no reason to allow this and yet he did. He had no desire to harm her and she must recognize that, one predator to another. He could, if he wanted to, and it would be the easiest thing in the world. She presented no threat, never had, but that hadn’t protected others from him in the past. But the past was just that and he was trying, most of the time, to move beyond that. That didn’t mean the temptation was any less.

“Because you need a reminder every so often that you’re foolish old man and there’s no one here willing to say that to your face besides me.” That Belle, were she herself, wouldn’t hesitate to point out his shortcomings went unmentioned. They both knew the truth of that well enough as it was.

She was right again. She had a disconcerting habit of being correct when he least desired it. “I was planning on lunch,” he said after a pause. He hadn’t been. He rarely stopped to eat during the day unless reminded to do so by someone or something.

“Of course you were.” With that, Granny turned on her heel and left the shop, shutting the door perhaps a bit too forcefully behind her.

He sighed, holding up the candlestick to the light. Satisfied that it was thoroughly polished he set it carefully on the counter beside its mate. It was absurd to be nervous about walking in to that diner. If she had asked about him she didn’t hate him. He had worried, after his final visit to the hospital, that she would. Still, she didn’t know him. He was still a stranger. A stranger who had called her to say he was dying but was now as hale as he had ever been. A deathbed confession, he was certain, held less meaning when the death was averted. Even so, she deserved better than the nothing he had given her since his recovery.

 

Naturally it wasn’t so simple as gathering his courage and walking to the diner. He had planned on ordering a sandwich, reassuring Belle that he was among the living and would remain so for the foreseeable future, and then leaving. But the diner was crowded, she was in the kitchen washing dishes when he arrived, and Granny had the audacity to smirk at him as he walked in the door.

“I’ll tell the young lady you’d like a word with her,” Granny told him. “You sit. But make sure you order something. I’ve got a strict no loitering policy.”

“I don’t loiter,” he grumbled, staring fixedly at the menu on the counter before him. It hadn’t changed in 29 years as far as he knew but he was going to read every item on it if he had to.

“Mister Gold?” Her voice was still hers, in spite of the uncertainty that colored it, and if he closed his eyes for just a moment he could pretend she was still herself. “I…I thought you were…”

“I’m not,” he said as he set the menu down. “Not anymore. Magic.” The last word was said hesitantly. He had no idea how much she knew of magic now or how she might feel about it. “I’m sorry if I frightened you.” That apology could have covered multiple offenses. The kiss in the hospital. The confrontation with the cup. The news that he was dying.

“Thank you,” she said quietly. “For telling the truth. Most of them didn’t. I have to go.” She disappeared back into the kitchen without another word.

A moment later Granny appeared and placed a brown paper sack in front of him. “Pastrami on rye, to go.”

“I didn’t order that,” he pointed out.

“$4.75,” Granny continued, ignoring him and holding out a hand expectantly. “The pickle’s on the house.”

He handed over a $5 bill and pocketed the quarter he received in return.

“Now go,” Granny told him. “You’re disturbing my customers.”

He did as he was told, nodding once to Granny before he left. He had, it seemed, unknowingly entered into an unusual and wholly unexpected alliance. He needed time to think on this. It was just as well he had a sandwich now and could retreat with it to the relative safety of his shop.


End file.
